


message in a bottle

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something wakes Drift in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	message in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> So one day last week or so, I was on twitter complaining about wanting to write some sad Dratchet. One of my favorite [artists](http://alfheimr.tumblr.com/) linked me to a piece of art they had done saying "I cried while working on this, so maybe it will help" (I am paraphrasing, but w/e)
> 
> Anyway I wrote a quickie thing and put it on tumblr so... now I'm finally putting it here.
> 
> This is the artwork :)  
> 

Despite docking at a small spaceport, Drift still elected to spend his recharge cycles in the shuttle. A routine he’d adjusted to surprisingly quick, and it was almost funny. Since when had he had a regular recharge pattern? But he’d park his small craft at a station, or in a stable orbit, and shut down for a few cycles. Most of the time, his rest went uninterrupted.

 

Most of the time.

 

He rolled over when his audios picked up a voice, a sword in his hand before his pedes ever hit the floor. Blue-white light glowed off one of the backpanels, and then over his own white plating as he turned a corner.

 

Drift relaxed the grip on his sword. It was a message. One he’d kept for too long… but it was barely a blip in the computer’s memory bank. And he wouldn’t admit it, but the image of Ratchet brought him comfort. He stepped forward, peering at the control panel. Some kind of adjustment in the spaceport’s rotation had caused a cube of energon to slip down and activate the message replay.

 

Comforting as Ratchet’s image was, it also reminded Drift of just how alone he was. His spark pulsed, aching, as he watched the hologram speak, the optics staring through him unseeing. That was the worst part. But if he shuttered his optics and just listened… he could, for a moment, convince himself that Ratchet was close by.

 

Almost.

 

Drift cracked his optics open slowly, staring away from the image of Ratchet’s face, and lifted his free hand — Ratchet spoke with hand gestures a lot, and this recording had been no exception, and it almost looked like he was reaching for Drift. He wasn’t, of course, but all the same Drift mirrored the motion, spreading his fingers to slip between the space between Ratchet’s own, and—

 

And his fingers passed right through, the hologram’s light refracting around his digits.

 

Drift puffed out a sigh, pushing his hand forward more to shut off the recording.

 

Now it was too quiet, but Drift ignored the hot burst of longing and turned back to his bunk.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


End file.
